Faith
by serendipity80xxx
Summary: After everything he believed in has betrayed him - how can Booth still have faith? How can he trust? How can he explain his anger to the one person that matters? Set in early season 10 - Booth' thoughts - the ones we did not see on TV - mainly focusing on his relationship with Brennan. Currently planned as a three-parter. Rated M for a reason.
1. I won't hurt you

"I won't hurt you!" She said to him, confident, smiling. Her entire face lightening up looking at him, shining.

She was so beautiful. Looked so beautiful, he thought. His wife. His WIFE!

She kissed him again. This time he did not pull back. He slightly bent towards her, accepted the sweet touch of her warm soft lips against his lips. Oh God, how much he had missed this! How many endless nights in jail he had wished to touch her again, to feel her again... Desire rose in him. He wanted her, how much he wanted her! And just for this moment he wanted to let go of every other thought on his mind. He knew, he was a poisoned man. Hurt - too much hurt by all what had happened to him over the past four months. Too consumed by the betrayal, by the anger inside of him. But that one kiss from his wife, that amazing look of happiness upon her face, the beauty only she could still bring to his life - how could that not clear all that ugliness from his mind.

Her right hand went up to his neck, to hold him close. To take possession of him again. Her HUSBAND.

Their lips met again, barely separating from each other while passion took over. They moved around, towards the bed. THEIR bed. The one she had picked out, the one in the new home, their new home - which she had set up for the both of them and Christine.

For the second time on that day he felt sentimental, overpowered with gratitude. A small part of his belief brought back. By her. Entirely by her, and only her alone. The whole world, his whole world, had failed him. But not Bones.

Not for one split of a second she had, not once. He had gone through hell, through the worst time of his entire life - and still she had been there. For him. Always. Even through his worst nightmares, even when all of his faith, all of the good things, all of the just things in this world he had ever believed in had left him, had entirely failed him - still he had never been left alone in all of this. He'd always known that she'd been there. And still was there. With him. For him. And that she'd never give up fighting for him. She'd never give him up. Even now, even through all his hurt, all his anger, all his pain which now stood between them - because he could just not shut it down, shut it out - which piled up in him with every breath he took in pain - she did not give him up. My God, how could he be half the man now she deserved him to be? How could he love her, and be there for her, for Christine - when this wasn't over, when this didn't stop? When this never ended?

Stop! He had to cease this. Had to stop thinking. For her he had to stop.

"I promise this won't hurt a bit!" She emphasized, pulled him close again. Gently, she would not touch any of his bruised spots.

Her words reached him beyond his anger, beyond his pain. Almost as if having brought back his old self. He trusted her. Of course, he did. Entirely trusted her to keep that promise she'd made - keep it all the way through.

For a moment he was lost. He wanted this to happen. Wanted them to go beyond kissing. To make love - even when he did not know how he could do it. How he could be gentle, and kind, and caring... How he could be the man, the husband, she needed him to be - with all these ugly things, the pain, the anger, the rage on his mind. All these much too ugly memories. He wasn't even sure his bruised body was in any state, any state at all to make love to her.

"All right." He barely said it, closing his eyes, concentrating on the feeling of her lips against his. They sent shivers through his spine, his entire body. She could bring him back, she really could! He battled against acknowledging the poor physical state he was in. Every time he breathed in the cracked ribs - his souvenir from jail - still reminded him of the pain, of the hurt, of the injustice that had been done to him... Perhaps his mind could be tricked, could be shut down, or shut out - but then his body...

His wife touched him again. Held on to him. Gently made him lay down on the bed. Their bed. The one they would share again. Because she never ever, not for a single second ever, had believed he would stay in jail for the rest of his life. Because she had never doubted her ability, the ability of her team, of all their friends, to clear him of the unjust accusations that he had been charged with. Not for a single moment she had. Because she was still his 'Bones'. Because she still had absolute faith in him.

In a way, right in this moment, he could not even be angry anymore that she had gone and blackmailed Brady. That she had put her own life at risk to get him out of jail. He saw that now. Of course, she had equally suffered - just as much as him.

"Bones." He uttered while she dimmed out the lights. God, he had to let go of everything that was on his mind... He wanted this so much! He wanted her so much to get back that part of him, that person he had been up to four months ago, up to that point until the world had betrayed him... He had to try! He loved her. He had to find that person back. For her! He knew he could.

"Shh..." She replied, getting next to him. In a way she was on top of him. But that could not be, he thought. He did not feel her weight, did not feel any pain - just as she had promised...

Her lips went down his cheek, his neck. It was so dark without the light he could barely see her.

"Angela says I should take what I need..." She said.

"Angela!" He wanted to protest. But the next dozen of her kisses - now moving downwards on his chest - made him forget whatever he had wanted to say. He felt like that 16-year-old school boy again - whose body was violently in love, his mind just following suit.

He grabbed her. Perhaps a bit too passionate. But then, he was a man who had not made love for more than four months. He whirled her around and under him.

He winced in pain. He wasn't up to this, wasn't well enough to do this. Still he fought hard not to let her see.

"Booth." She said. Concern was in her voice. She must have felt him stiffen.

"I'm not sure I can do this." He had to admit. Hating himself. Of course, she deserved to get what she needed. She deserved so much more than that! So much more from him.

"It's okay." She said, her hand gently caressing his face. "Kissing you is very satisfying." She lifted her face to kiss him again

"No." He shook his head. Looking at her, his eyes now having adapted to the dim light which shone into their bedroom from the stars above through the open patio right next to the bedroom of their new house. "It's not enough!" He declared still shaking his head. God, he was not an invalid! A damn couple of bruises could not stop him from making love to his wife! "I want to make love to you!"

He ignored the pain of his battered ribs. Bent down to kiss her, to feel her, to hold her in his hands. God, he wanted her so much! Now. Right now! "Help me." He pleaded, breathing in sharply to contain the pain.

Gently they sat up. She took off her cardigan then pulled her night shirt over her head. He watched her, suddenly feeling this was going too slow. His hands went down, fervently, impatiently worked to undress the remainder of her clothes. He bent over. Kissed her now uncovered shoulder, her cleavage, her breasts.

"Booth." She shivered, pleased by his kisses. "We can still stop..." She reasoned. She did not sound like she wanted to.

"No." He exhaled. He had no intention to stop this. Not now. As gently as he could manage he pulled her close again until she was under him. A wave of pain from his bruised right side against her body left him almost impossible to go on. He growled, feeling more angered than pained now. He would not let the pain win. He would not let them win, would not let the people win who had done this to him! They could not take this away from him!

"Booth!" She demanded. "...Please!" Worry lay on her face. "You're clearly in pain! I'm hurting you!" She must have had called out his name once or twice before he had heard her.

"You're not!" He insisted. "I'm ok!" He would not admit to her he was not.

"Let me be on top." She said in earnest, still sounding worried. "Let me... do this." Her hands petted his neck, then his shoulders. "It will be very much less painful."

For the split of a second he stared at her. Of course, she still was the doctor, the rational, the practical one. Making love to her he actually preferred being on top - what could he say, he was kind of a traditional guy - but not that traditional that they hadn't experimented in their love life before. "Okay." He replied. Relieved that they would still have sex.

Gently she took charge of the situation, of him. Once again he felt his bruises ache when she slowly undressed his jeans. But the pain wasn't too bad now. If he had asked her she probably would have explained that the adrenaline of his arousal, of his desire to make love to her overpowered his sense of pain.

Oh God! Her hands all over his body, touching him where only she was allowed to go... This felt good, so good. Only now he realized how lonely, how terribly lonely all those months in jail without her had been. Even during her visits they had barely ever been allowed to even touch each other, let alone to kiss or to hold each other.

Consumed with all the pain, all his anger, his urge for revenge for what they had done to him and Bones - he hadn't realized how much being apart from her had hurt him, had hurt both of them. "Come here." He said. He needed to feel her close, as close as they both could get. Needed to occupy that very same space in the universe with her again.

Gently she sat down on top of him. Slowly she moved for them to become one again. She bent over to kiss him, carefully not to touch any of his bruises.

"Bones." He uttered her name. He did not feel any pain. He only felt her. The warmth of her, the sweet sensation of making love with her again. He held her close, pressed her thighs against him.

"Am I doing okay...?" She asked, now short of breath, but still sounding concerned.

He lifted his head, met her halfway. Kissed her. Bones. His Bones. How could she still worry - while she gave both of them so much pleasure... Just feeling her body against his body, kissing her, touching her, occupying that same space with her - which they had not done for so many months, which had been denied to them both for so long - would have been enough. But tonight, this - was so much more than that. And going slow now, just to accommodate his injuries, was out of the question.

"Booth...?" She panted, still waiting for an answer. She did no stop to move though.

He kissed her again. Lingered. "I love you." He eventually said. "We're fine." This was not the time to talk, feeling they were close to both of them reaching their orgasm soon. He waited for her, he always did. He found no pleasure in reaching it before she did.

"I love you, too." She replied. "Booth..."

He felt her climax and let go, violently shaken by his own. Then the entire world around him blacked out.

A sharp, almost unbearable pain brought him back into this world. The light was switched on again. He still lay on his back. Now almost impossible to catch a breath, to gasp for air in this position - while every single of his bruises now made him pay a hundred times over for the physical strain he had put his battered body through. He clenched his fists. He did not want Bones to see him like this, to see him in pain.

"Booth." She said, looking at him, concerned.

He had no idea how long she had been looking at him. He tried to breath more evenly, tried to control the pain. "I'm ok." He said, then - remembering how they had made love - he even managed to smile. "It was so much worth it..." He lifted his hand, reached for her face, touched her.

"You passed out." She stated. "I should not have d..."

"I just closed my eyes for a couple of seconds." He cut her off. "I'm fine. Really!"

"You can't breathe!" She protested.

"...That's because you are so beautiful - you just take my breath away." He tried to smile. It hurt.

She got up. Left the bedroom.

"Where are you going...?" He asked, confused. He had just tried to lighten the mood. Had he upset her?

She came back after half a minute - a package of pain killers and an ice pack in her hand.

"I don't want any of those." He told her, indicating at the pain killers. "It's not over yet. I have to stay alert. If they come after us again, I have to be alert!"

"Booth." She pleaded. Then sad down on the bed right next to him again.

Before he realized what was about to happen she had the ice pack applied on the most severely bruised right side of his body. He yelped. He wasn't exactly sure what was more disagreeable, having to bear the pain of his bruised ribs while breathing - or having an ice pack straight out of the freezer pressed against the bare skin of his midsection.

"That's much better." She declared. The doctor in her apparently satisfied with her work.

"Yeah." He replied. Unconvinced. This thing was really, really, really - COLD! "Bones. I'm fine. Really!" He tried to convince her, in an effort to have her take this thing away from him again.

"No, Booth! Hold still!" She declared. "This will help against the swelling. Once the swelling has improved, you will be able to breathe much easier..."

He sighed, slowly leaned back into the cushions again. This happened when one got married to a doctor - even when that doctor was only a forensic anthropologist.

"I don't think any of the ribs is fractured." She said, now leaning over his bruised midsection examining his injuries more closely. "However, I cannot be sure of that without palpating the ribcage or having some..."

"No!" He shook his head in horror, afraid that eagerness of her profession had made her forget that she had not wanted to hurt him. Had promised not to hurt him. But then, the people she usually dealt with did not feel any pain... not anymore.

However, touching him down there, touching his bruised ribs - was out of the question! "Bones, you can't..." He sighed, looking for words. How was he supposed to say this right? Of course, she was concerned. Even he himself had been shocked at the sight of his bruises the very first time.

"No, Booth. I understand. Given the extend of the bruises - plus the delicacy of the area - I certainly could not make a proper examination of your ribs without inducing any kind of pain therapy first... Which you clearly do not agree to." She added.

"I'm fine!" He insisted once again. How in the world could he make her drop the matter altogether?

"But - there are other - noninvasive - methods." She continued. "We can ask Cam to do a set of x-rays of..."

"No." He interrupted her. "I don't need any x-rays! ...I need to find who's behind all of this! Who did this to us!" He removed the ice pack from his body, put it down on the nightstand. Yes, he was angry. But angry was good, kept him focused on what he had to do! "I'm gonna make them pay!" He told her. "Then I'll be much better."

"Booth." She said, the concern back in her voice.

He brushed it away. "...You know I have to do this!" He looked at her.

She sighed. "Not tonight." She replied, moving over to her side of the bed. "You need to get some rest!" She touched his shoulder, gently placed her hand on his upper arm, indicating him to lie down. He did not move.

"We will get this person. We will get whoever did this to us." She told him. With absolute confidence.

He loved her. He loved her so much! She was the one who kept him sane, kept him on track. She was the reason why he could get through all of this, could survive all of this! "Ok." He said. "Tomorrow." Finally he lay down, his arm stretched out for her to lie down next to him, her head on his shoulder.

"Tomorrow." She repeated when he switched off the light and put his arm around her. Only her head and her shoulder touched him. Even now she made sure that she would not hurt him, that she would not touch any of his bruised parts. "Get some rest." She replied sleepily. "Sweets will be here at 8 to pick you up..."

"Okay." He said, listening to her even breaths. She'd fallen asleep, right next to him. Asleep in his arms...

Only this morning he would not have dared to dream of it, to dream of ever touching her again, of making love to her again, of ever falling asleep right next to her again. But now he could - and he did not need to dream it. It was real. The nightmare wasn't over, was far from over yet. The rage and the pain, the betrayal, the anger in him, they were still there. And they would not, they could not go away. But the worst part - the nights without her, the loneliness, the desperation never to be with her again - it did not break him. THEY did not break him - nor his wife. They did not. They did not have any idea what they were up against. HE WOULD MAKE THEM SEE!


	2. We have to do that

"It's not your fault."

"It IS my fault, Bones." He stopped her. Anger swelled up in him. Guilt. Despair. But mostly anger. "Okay, look, I am the SENIOR AGENT, do you understand. It is MY responsibility."

"That's why we're going... to find out what happened. "She replied." ...Who's behind all this." Her rational side providing answers to placate his outburst. "We're gonna do that for Sweets." She stated.

He had dropped himself on one of the chairs. Suddenly feeling powerless. "We HAVE to do that!" He emphasized. Not even Bones' assurance that they would find out whoever did this to them, to Sweets, gave him any comfort. Made any difference to him right now. Sweets was dead. He was DEAD. "Right?" He really felt like crying. "He was... family."

"Yes, he was." She acknowledged.

They both looked up, turned towards the entrance of the living room as their daughter stood there. Fully dressed, her little backpack on her shoulders. Eager to start the day.

"I'm ready!" Christine informed them in a cheerful voice.

Bones turned towards their daughter. "Oh. For what, Honey...?" She asked Christine, apparently as surprised as him what had prompted their daughter to get up that early and to get dressed all on her own on this awful day.

Neither of them both had slept well. How could he close his eyes and not envision the awfully battered, bloody Sweets gasp for air? That one last terrible moment which had rendered their friend forever silent played over and over again in his mind. Right there, this terrible nightmare had turned into an unbearable hell. They should have come after him again. Not after Sweets! He should have been the one to deliver the warrant to Sanderson, not Sweets!

Forever and ever and ever in bed he had turned from one side to the other. Sleepless, restless, somehow trying to understand, to grab – that exact fateful moment where he had agreed to let Sweets go on his own. WHY! WHY had he agreed to this? Why hadn't he insisted to deliver the papers himself? To go himself instead of letting Sweets do it. He was the trained sniper. He was the one who could take up an equal fight with a hired professional. Not Sweets. Sweets didn't stand a chance. And now Sweets was dead. And it was his fault!

Bones didn't understand. Bones didn't understand how he felt, how he had to feel about it. He didn't blame her. He loved her. He loved her more than anything. But as much as she would try to ease the blame, to ease his pain – she couldn't. He knew how much she was shocked about Sweets' death as well. Yet, while something in him through all the pain and the guilt during that past long night had still refused to believe that Sweets was really dead - his wife had acknowledged the facts and decided to deal with the aftermath in a rational manner. Well, she had to, probably. She was to one to go back to the lab today to cut open Sweets' body to find who did this to him.

Still, deep down inside he wished she would have come to him. That she would have cried on his shoulder – like after Vincent's death. That he would have gotten a moment to hold her... He could not come to her on his own. Not before all of this was over. Not before they had their lives back. There were certain things he had to do first. Had to deal with – on his own. Things he had to put right. That he had to do to protect his family! Things, perhaps, she would not approve of. If he had learned one thing for sure during the last couple of months was that this thing, this conspiracy was bigger than anyone of them had ever believed it to be. And – that to fight it he couldn't go by the books. The less she knew about certain measures he would take to protect his family the better.

"Uncle Sweets and Daisy are taking me to the park today." Christine replied. "They said we can ride the paddleboat." She added.

Bones looked from their daughter over to him. Pain was in her expression. Pain that they would have to tell their daughter the truth.

He felt as if all his blood was drained from him. They had decided to keep their daughter out of all of this. ...There were no words to explain to a three-year-old that her uncle Sweets had been brutally murdered. They weren't prepared to tell her. Weren't prepared to explain why her uncle Sweets could never go to the park with her again. His heart broke – only thinking about it... About having to hurt his little girl... He looked back at his wife, searched for any clue what they could possibly say to their daughter.

Bones outstretched her arm towards their daughter. "Come here, Honey... Come here..." They came towards him.

He bent forward in his chair to meet his daughter face to face. His mind was blank. How could they possibly explain? How could they even find the right words. There were none. "Hey..." It took all his strength to look up, to meet his daughter's bright expectant eyes. He cleared his throat. "...Do you remember what we talked about..." His voice broke, he had to pause. "...when..., when we were the last time... at Church, with Father Matt...?"

Christine slowly shook her head.

Right. That had been before his imprisonment. Probably too long ago for his daughter to remember.

"Booth, I don't think that's the right way to explain..."

"Bones..." He painfully cut her off. "This is not the time to argue our..., our..." Again his voice went hoarse and failed him. "Okay?" He pleaded.

"Okay." Bones acknowledged, petting Christine's head.

"Come here, Pumpkin." He said lifting his daughter up to sit on his lap. For a short moment his battered rips reminded him that they were still bruised when his daughter leaned against him. He chose to ignore them. All he needed to do right now was to ease the pain that would follow. He did not care for his own. "You know, that place... Heaven... where all the good people go to..."

"...All the old people." Christine replied.

"Yes." He acknowledged. He felt sick. Sweets certainly did not fit in there. Did not belong there. Should not have gone there. Not for at least another 50 years! "But, sometimes..." He continued, "sometimes, young people go there, too... You know, when they are very ill."

"Or when they are hurt." Bones added. "Sometimes they go there because then they don't feel any pain anymore."

Christine looked over to Bones, then at him. "Are you going there, too...? She asked, agitated.

Oh God. Quickly, they both shook their heads. "Mommy and Daddy will not go there for a long long time yet." He explained to Christine.

"I don't believe in Heaven." Bones stated.

"But – uncle Sweets..." Damn. He hated it. But now they could hardly stop with what they were trying to explain to their daughter. "He was hurt." He continued. At least they would be able to leave out the gruesome details of Sweets death. "So he went to Heaven." He felt he had never uttered a more terrible sentence in his whole life.

Christine looked from him over to Bones, then back to him. Her eyes wide open. "But... why did he go?" She asked, apparently upset about it now. "And when will he come back...?"

He bit his tongue. This was the hardest part now. He wasn't even sure it made any sense for their daughter to understand that Sweets would never come back, that he was gone forever. Perhaps they should have told Christine that Sweets had gone on a very very long trip to another country and that therefore he wouldn't be back for a very very long time. Because it did not make any sense.

"Uncle Sweets is not coming back, Honey." Bones said with a grave voice. Tears glimmered in the corners of her eyes. She sat down on the other chair.

Christine's eyes started to tear up now, too. "But..." She sniffed. "Did Daisy go with him?" She asked.

"No, Daisy did not go with him. Only uncle Sweets went to Heaven." He explained.

Christine all by a sudden jumped off his lap onto her feet. "Then Daisy and I can go to the park alone today... Uncle Sweets can go with us the next time." She declared.

"No." Bones shook her head. "Daisy is very sad about uncle Sweets today. She cannot go to the park."

"We will all go to the park together on another day, okay?" He said. Neither Bones nor him had time to take their daughter to the park today. Cam would probably call with the results of the preliminary autopsy any minute. Then he and Bones would have leave to catch Sweets' killer.

"But I want to go to the park today." Christine burst into tears. "I want my uncle Sweets!"

His eyes filled with tears, too. He tried to gulp them down. He could not bear to see his little girl cry, to see his little girl hurt like this.

"Honey, I know." Bones replied. She went over to their daughter, got down on one knee to be at the same height as their daughter. "We all want uncle Sweets to be still with us." Bones explained. "But he can't come back to us... It is not possible."

"Bones!" He protested.

"But, it is true." Bones stated looking over from their daughter to him.

"Yeah. But we... can't tell her that." He hissed towards Bones under his breath. Now wasn't the time for the truth. Not for THIS TRUTH. Especially not for this truth.

"I accept your concept of Heaven." Bones said. "And that is is one way of trying to explain where Sweets has gone to after his death."

"Bones!" Not now! He thought.

"But not even your belief in Heaven allows for the possibility to come back from there." Bones continued to explain. "...Unless – of course, you are Jesus... Well, technically, he did not come back either, he rose to another p..."

"Enough with that..." He interrupted her. Desperately searching for anything to stop her. This was NOT the time to argue about religion. Not while Christine looked at them both. Bewildered, tears running down her little cheeks.

Bones cellular phone on the kitchen counter started to ring. Christine turned around. Suddenly ran away from them, still sobbing, still carrying her little backpack on her shoulders ready to face the day.

"I'm gonna go after her!" He got up.

Bones reached for her phone but then halted to pick it up. "...Research shows that children under the age of 5 do not fully understand the concept of death." She told him.

"What... do you want me to wait two years to comfort her?" He said. Suddenly feeling angry.

"No, of course not." Bones said watching him leave the kitchen. "But – though she is my daughter, and quite advanced – she may not understand yet how Sweets can die and never come back."

"I'm 42 – and I don't understand it..." He said loud enough for Bones to hear it. Nothing of all this made sense! Sweets was dead. Gone, forever. Daisy and Sweets' unborn child left forever fatherless... His life was barely existent, his career was ruined. True, he was out of jail. His wife had nearly jeopardized everything to get him out of it. But there was no guarantee to them that it would make any difference. That that brought them any closer to finding out who was behind all of this! No, he did not understand it. Why anyone did this all to them. Why his little girl had to be in tears, agonized, crying for her beloved uncle Sweets to come back. ...And he himself disillusioned, frustrated ...pained. But most of all – angry. Angry that they hadn't found out anything. Angry that he hadn't seen it coming.

Of course they would come after him again. After his family when he failed to protect them. And he couldn't. Not right now in the state he was in. Not with the means he had right now to protect them. Not with what he could do legally. Not when he stayed inside the system.


End file.
